Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
And it would take nothing short of a miracle to find a solution for Harht’s situation.
“That’s irrelevant,” Ksar said. “We have more important things to discuss.”
“What important things?” Harht muttered, looking down at his hands. They were shaking. They were shaking so badly Harht didn’t seem to be able to stop the tremors even when he clasped his hands.
Ksar eyed him with a small frown. Harht didn’t seem to be all there, lost in his mind, misery coming off him in waves. Ksar could catch snatches of his thoughts without even delving into his mind again, and soon it became obvious Harht was working himself up into a panic attack, his breathing getting labored and his eyes dazed and lost.
“Harht,” Ksar said sharply. “Breathe. Harry!”
His brother flinched, opening his mouth and closing it, trying to breathe and failing.
Dammit.
In a few long strides, he was by Harht’s side and was pulling him into his arms. Harht clung to him, his eyes squeezed shut, tremors racking his body. Ksar held him, his throat uncomfortably tight, his unseeing gaze fixed on the opposite wall.
It had been years since he’d last hugged the kid. Harht had probably been seven or eight, a tiny thing with huge violet eyes full of trust and hero worship for his big brother. He’d always looked at Ksar like he could do no wrong.
And he’d let him down.
His expression resolute, Ksar pulled back. He tipped Harht’s face up and looked him in the eye.
“I can’t promise you that it will be easy, Harry,” he said, making sure to use Harht’s preferred human name. Judging by the slight widening of Harry’s eyes, he didn’t miss it.
“It won’t be,” Ksar said. “But I promise you that I will find a solution.” He thought about what he would have to do, and his lips twisted into something ugly and bitter. “By any means necessary.”
* * *
To say the Queen was displeased by the news was to say nothing. But she didn’t say anything, standing silent as her husband comforted their youngest son.
She exchanged a look with Ksar, her face blank but her eyes glinting with fury.
Ksar shook his head and said quietly, “I’ll handle it.”
Queen Tamirs eyed him carefully, her expression inscrutable. “Can you?”
Ksar rolled his shoulders and nodded.
A furrow appeared between her brows. “Be careful,” she said.
Ksar shot her a sharp look. Sometimes he wondered if she knew about him, but he didn’t make an effort to find out. If she wanted to claim ignorance, that was her choice. It was probably safer that way.
With a clipped nod, Ksar left the Queen’s office. He was glad that he hadn’t had to influence his parents’ minds to make them more…open-minded about Harry’s situation. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in the family with a soft spot for their youngest member. Not that Ksar had expected the Queen to disinherit her favorite son, but he hadn’t been certain that her love for Harht would be stronger than her prejudice against “lesser societies.” Granted, the Queen hadn’t exactly been happy to hear the news that her youngest son had taken some pre-TNIT barbarian for a life partner, but all in all, it had gone smoother than Ksar had expected. Their parents’ concern for Harry had outweighed their dismay by the situation. Harry was going to need their parents’ unconditional support while Ksar solved the problem of Harry’s bond to Leylen’shni’gul and the fact that legally Harry couldn’t have a relationship with the human.
Ksar pursed his lips. He still couldn’t say he was happy with the fact that Harry literally needed his human. Initially, he had been skeptical of Borg’gorn’s assessment of the situation until he checked Harry’s mind himself.
What he had seen in Harry’s mind was beyond disturbing. Harry’s mind had always been warm and bright, full of happy, if naive, thoughts. Now it was dull and gloomy, lifeless and devoid of any excitement. Harry’s brain was confused and sluggish, his core pulsing with such raw need that it nearly made Ksar sick. Harry was also in immense pain, but his brain didn’t seem to work correctly for him to feel it fully. The bond around Harry’s telepathic core didn’t make matters better, messing with the already suffering mind and body. Ksar couldn’t imagine constantly living with that kind of pain and unsatisfied need. He didn’t think Harry could last long without going insane or his brain finally shutting down.
So regardless of his own thoughts on the matter, he would have to get Harry what he needed: that human of his.
Ksar gritted his teeth and strode toward his office.
He was annoyed by the situation. Though, perhaps annoyance wasn’t the correct word. Cold rage fit better. He wanted to kill that human. Harry was still a kid. It wasn’t Harry’s age that was the problem—Ksar had been on hundreds of planets and was well aware that the Calluvian age of majority was considered rather old by most races’ standards. Harht was twenty-three, old enough to make his own decisions. No, the problem wasn’t Harht’s age, per se; it was his naivety and trustfulness. Harht had been too sheltered all his life. He hadn’t even attended an off-planet school, as most Calluvian princes did. Their parents had always babied Harht too much and he had grown up disgustingly naive and nice.